I Will Always Protect You
by Mimicupcake
Summary: Set after Heart episode 2.17, Sam is full of self hatred and believes that it is all his fault, and that he will never be able to love and love in return without consequences. Dean is prepared to prove him wrong.
1. Chapter 1

I will always protect you

Chapter One

Sam flexed his hand around the ivory handle of Dean's colt. It felt alien to his grip, yet the metal soon began to warm to his touch. He stared into the distance; eye's blurred with tears, his finger absently sliding up and down on the trigger.

He hated himself for this, for the position he was in. Quakes of emotion shook through his body, making him gently tremble. If any other person was looking, they may not have noticed, but to Dean's trained eye he could see Sam slowly tearing himself apart inside his head. Sam blinked, trying to clear away the tears from his eyes, but they insisted on falling, wetting his cheeks as they went. The salt of his tears fell into the scratches etched into his cheek, but he welcomed the sting that began to pulse. He felt like he needed to be punished, he felt like what he was going to do was wrong. As if it were hell worthy.

Dean slowly approached from behind. His mind was conflicted as he thought about Madison. He had been brainwashed by John since his childhood to believe that all things supernatural were certainly evil, yet before him stood Sam who clearly didn't feel the same. Madison even seemed harmless; if it weren't for the body count, Dean would never have guessed that she was a monster.

Dean looked up at the hunched broad shoulders of his brother, which were still shuddering with his sobs. His emotions were twisted. He envied his brother's openness and the way Sam cared for almost everything. Dean was so closed off; hunting was his job, he did what he needed and then came home, celebrated with a beer, and the next day repeated it over again. Yet Sam had always taken care in their hunts, and spent time in learning what they were hunting and what they needed to do. Even Dean could see here, Sam had caught himself up in something a lot deeper than just trying to save another girl. Yet at the same time Dean took pity on Sam; he knew if he were to care as Sam did, he would never be able to take it. Emotions never were Dean's strength. Even now as he looked at his brother, picturing his tear stained face, all he wanted was to protect his Sammy and take everything bad away. He understood that he needed to be strong for him.

'Sam?' Dean gently said; his voice barely above a whisper.

Sam's head jerked back slightly to his name, he sighed, and tried to pull himself in, make himself look stronger as he turned to Dean. Pain shocked through Dean's body as he looked past Sam's poorly made defences into his dark dull eyes. He just wanted to take Sam away; he just wanted to hold him.

Dean dropped his head, and took in a breath. The air seemed dry and stale in his lungs as throat began to tighten.

'I'm sorry' Dean said. He wanted to say anything, do anything that would comfort Sam. He felt helpless not knowing what to do, not knowing how to connect.

'No you're right', Sam's voice was hoarse and shallow; he sniffed and painfully swallowed as he looked to Dean, 'She's right.'

'Sammy I got this one,' Dean said, trying to look brave for his brother, trying to project the strength and comfort to Sam, 'I'll do it.'

'She asked me to', Sam quickly replied.

'You don't have to', Dean said, trying to get Sam to reason with him, yet he knew Sam was going to be stubborn about it. That was one thing about Sam that he had in common with John.

'Yes I do', Sam choked out, tears streamed down his face, as pulled in his lip, biting it until it turned white and then rapidly back to pink. He blinked away the tears, trying to look anywhere but Dean's face. He didn't want to look into Dean's eyes, because he knew the only comfort there was Dean's yearn to protect. He didn't want to face his brother, because he felt as if he might just give in, and let Dean shield him from everything that hurt. But he knew, for Madison's sake, and that pain that he felt in his heart for her, that he needed to do this.

'Just wait here', Sam said, holding in the tears as much as he could as he looked into Dean's shadowed eyes. Dean slightly dipped his head in a silent promise. Sam turned away and walked towards the room where Madison sat, staring blankly ahead. He looked her over and felt a pang of hate towards himself. He hated how much he let himself get involved. How he let himself connect with someone who was meant to be his natural enemy. It was his fault, he should have never allowed himself get close enough to become attached. Her face was flushed, but she was no longer crying. Her long brown hair, sat in twists upon her chest, she turned to Sam and looked at him with doe like eyes. Her calm facade quickly faded as she spotted the silver glint of the Colt resting in his hand. But as if accepting her fate, she soon looked calm again, and even smiled slightly at Sam.

'Thank you' she said, and she closed her eyes. She already looked peaceful as she sat, head dipped, hands together in her lap.

Sam wiped away the tears from his face, and lent into her, gently kissing her forehead. He took a long inhale through his nose, smelling her hair and scent.

'Good bye' he whispered, as he stepped back, raised the gun and cocked the hammer.

Dean stood in the hallway as a single tear escaped from his eye. He didn't want to be the one to kill Madison, but neither did he want Sam to do it. He felt as if he were allowing Sam to taint himself. He would rather do it, than allow Sam to become broken.

The sudden explosion of the gun, made Dean jump as he stood alone in the hall. There was nothing but silence after.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Dean almost floored the pedal, as he sped down the highway from San Francisco. He wanted to do anything to put the city behind them as fast as possible. He swerved between the cars on the highway, over taking many as he raced past; the Impala roaring. Yet even the sound of his baby didn't soothe his heart, as it rapidly beat, pounding in his chest. Sam sat; slouched in his seat, head against the window. The cool glass was a comfort to his flushed, hot face. His eyes looked sore and puffy, yet they stared blankly ahead. Dean looked across to his brother, hoping to get some sign that he was okay, but he knew that he was just kidding himself. He almost said something, many times throughout the journey, yet stopped himself just before the words left his mouth. I was clear to him that he wouldn't be able to say anything to Sam to comfort him. Nor did he want to cause an argument. Sam was like a wounded animal, and Dean feared if he tried to help him, Sam would only lash out in defence. Sam didn't understand Dean's inability to connect or understand.

Hours passed before Dean pulled in at a diner. It was getting dark, and the diner looked so inviting, the smell of coffee and food gripped Dean's empty stomach and made it shudder.

'Err...I need to eat something' Dean said, parking in a bay and turning the keys to shut of the rumbling of the engine.

'Okay' Sam replied, he continued just to stare into one of the cars ahead. His voice sounded hoarse, and quiet.

Dean sighed, and pushed open his door, and stepped out onto the gravel of the car park. The air was cool, and the gravel quietly crunched beneath his boots. It was a nice evening, if it weren't for the situation he was in. He looked over to the other door of the car, waiting for his giant brother to magically grow from it, but there was no sign that he was coming. For a moment he thought Sam was going to stay in the car, and dreaded the idea of coaxing his brother to come inside. But then he heard the click of the handle, and the creak as the door swung open. Sam got out and even though he was hunched he still stood tall above the Impala. He faced away from Dean, his head dipped.

'Come on then dude', Dean said, as he began to walk towards the warm orange glow of the diner, and the ever enticing aroma of warm food.

As Dean walked, he felt the presence of Sam following, but then it became ever closer with each step. He could feel his brother almost pressed to his back, his every step perfectly timed to fit into his. He stopped and Sam gently bumped into him. Sam quietly grunted something, and stepped back slightly. Dean felt a pang of affection and care for his brother. If it weren't for his gut, empty and painfully rumbling, he would turn around and drive to the nearest motel so that he could put Sam to bed and watch over him as he slept.

'Come on you', Dean said gently, and carried on walking towards the diner. Sam resumed his close position, and walked with him.

They sat at a table, placed beside a window. Sam absent mindedly pushed his carbonara around the bowl, as Dean greedily munched through a large cheese burger. He did anything to try and get Sam to smile or even just look at him, even acting goofy when he spilt ketchup down his chin. But he soon stopped after he realized his best efforts weren't even gaining a glimpse from Sam.

After staring at the stars for so long, Sam decided that the sky looked deep this evening. The black of the night sky wasn't just one tone; in fact it wasn't black at all, just made up of many tones of blue instead. The brightest of stars seemed to be winking at him, and it had the effect of glitter thrown across the sky. He thought about Madison, and the way she smiled at him. He hated himself, and blamed himself for everything. His mind turned to Jess, and the pit in his stomach began to twinge with pain. He curled his hand into a tight fist, and his knuckles began to whiten. He blinked back his tears and swore to himself he wasn't going to cry in the diner.

'Dude, you alright?' Dean said, worry lines creased in his forehead.

Sam turned to Dean and for the first time Dean could see all the hate for himself that his brother was building up inside. He panicked, not knowing what to do, how to react. He swallowed the lump that began to form in his throat.

'Come on Sammy, eat some more and then we'll get going.'

Sam shoved a small mouthful of the cold pasta into his mouth, chewed unenthusiastically and quietly gulped it down. He pushed the half full plate into the middle of the table and looked down into his lap. Dean's plate was empty except for the streaks of ketchup he hadn't used. Dean sighed, and stood up; he placed his hand on Sam's shoulder and gently pulled slightly. Sam leaned into the touch and it was the first sign to Dean that he wasn't completely shutting himself off from him. Sam quietly stood up from the table. They left the diner, Dean giving the waitress his 'irresistible' trademark smile as he walked out the door.

He had asked the waitress as he ordered about the nearest motel and she informed them that it was only half a mile down the road. It was not long until they pulled up, grabbing their clothes from the back, and stepped into the motel's lobby.

'Two doubles please', Dean said to the woman behind the counter. She had her feet up on the desk, and was fully bent over herself, painting her toenails a maroon red. She smiled at him, keenly chewing on gum, and then looked at Sam stood closely behind Dean. She raised her eyebrows, her face contorting like a snake given a mouse, but didn't comment. Dean frowned and took the keys from her hand, a little more roughly than he should have.

'I better not have trouble from you two!' She called after them, as they walked down the corridor.

_Trouble? Whatever she means by that._ Dean thought, stopping at a blue door, matching the number on the keys. Sam stood closely behind, once again in Dean's personal space. But Dean didn't care; he liked knowing that his Sammy was stood just there.

The door swung open, whining as it went. The room was appealing; for a motel. They stepped inside together, and Dean shoved the door closed, the slam echoing down the corridors, and into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sam walked to the furthest bed and lay down on his side, facing away from Dean. Dean looked over to where Sam had collapsed and sighed; he just didn't know what to do. He picked up his bag, and pulled out his lounge pants and a towel.

'Jus' gonna shower, Sammy', he said, stepping into the bathroom, closing his eyes as he shut the door behind him. He stood for a moment, back lent against the cool tiles, and then looked around his surroundings. He hoped the motel wasn't expensive, as the bathroom was reasonably clean and welcoming; as was their room. The shower was warm, and moderately powerful, as the water gently pummelled against his skin.

Around twenty minutes later, Dean stepped out the bathroom, releasing the warm humid air, laced with his favourite lime scented body wash, into the room. He looked over to Sam's bed to see his brother in the same position as he was before. Dean rolled his eyes, as he looked over Sam's hunched body. Although Dean could understand why Sam was being like this, he found difficult to sympathise. He stepped over to Sam's bed and took hold of the cover that he was lying on.

'Come on dude, might as well not get cold', Dean said pulling gently at the covers, trying to tug them from below his gargantuan brother.

Sam was stubborn for a moment, but Dean gently patted his shoulder. Sam made a miniscule groan that Dean wasn't sure he heard, but then he rolled enough for Dean to pull out the cover and fold it over him. Dean smiled a little, it was just like the nights when Sam wouldn't go to bed when they were little. Sam would be so stubborn to hear more stories from Dean, that he would get into a huff when Dean said no. Sam would lie on his covers and refuse to move. Of course Sam was smaller then and Dean could easily pull the cover from under him, sometimes rolling him completely off the bed. It always ended in laughter, but tonight there was nothing but uncomfortable silence.

That night, sleeping for Dean was rather difficult. Between Sam's quiet sobs and heavy breath nightmares, Dean tossed uncomfortably on the bed, unable to take his mind off his brother.

Dean woke up to an empty room.

'Shit', Dean hissed, almost leaping out of his bed, after realizing Sam had piled pillows in a body shape under the duvet.

'When the fuck did he do that? Sneaky basterd'.

Dean opened the front door of the motel, and looked out onto the car park. The impala gleamed under the early morning sun, but there were only a few other cars in bays. Dean scanned around, starting to panic, but then he noticed a figure sat on a bank of grass, opposite the motel.

Sam was sat hunched, facing away from the motel. He had Dean's large jacket sprawled over his shoulders, and he cupped a flask in his hand. Dean walked up behind him, still just in his lounge pants.

'Dude, what are you doing?' Dean said, as he approached him. The grass was cold and wet with dew, soaking the bottoms of his pants. Sam didn't move; he didn't even flinch.

'Sammy?'

Dean looked over his brother, gazing at his face. His eyes were puffy, and dark bags hung underneath. His face was pale and his lips almost blue, his whole body quaking with shivers. His light blue jeans, had turned dark, sodden through with dew, and he clung tightly onto Dean's jacket with one hand, holding it to his nose. Dean looked down to his other hand until he noticed the flask. He lent down and grabbed it from Sam's hand, and unscrewed it. It stake of whiskey, but it was empty.

'Sam, are you drunk?' Dean said. He couldn't believe this; Sam really had to learn not to drink his feelings.

Sam didn't answer, but he moved slightly, as if acknowledging Dean's presence. Dean lowered himself to Sam's level, leaning on his heels. He placed his hand on Sam's shoulder and looked at his face. He scanned his body making sure there were no traces of harm, until he saw his knuckles. They were utterly fucked. The bloody red mess had run all down his arm and sleeves. They were torn and crushed and chunks of rock had embedded themselves into the skin. Dean's stomach twisted with pain, and he immediately reached out to hold them.

Sam turned his head to Dean's at the contact. For the first time Dean could properly look into his eyes and see just how full of self loathing Sam was. Sam looked Dean's face up and down, his sad eyes squinting slightly as he began to recognise Dean.

'Dean?' he whispered, his face just centimetres from Dean's. Dean could smell the whiskey, stale on his breath.

'Sammy, what did you do?' Dean said, tears welling in his eyes as he tried to get Sam to listen; to reason with him.

'Dean please don't cry, please don't be angry' Sam mumbled as he leant into Dean, holding himself over Dean's shoulder. Dean didn't know what to do; his brother had just broken on him. He swallowed his fears, and put his arms around Sam, as Sam nestled in closer.

'Come on Sammy, let's get you inside', Dean said, pulling at Sam and helping him stand.

Sam leaning on his shoulder, they hobbled back to the motel room.

_A/N sorry bit of a filler chapter, more coming soon, but I'm not able to get to my computer a lot at the moment, so it may be a little slow. Relationship and cute stuff developing soon!_

_M_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Dean's side ached as he sat Sam down on the end of his bed. He knew Sammy was tall but never knew how heavy he was. His mind wondered as he thought about what lean muscle Sam was hiding under those clothes of his; a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach gently purred at the thought. But seeing the poor sight of Sam sat hunched over on his bed, pulled Dean out of his happy day dream. He found Sam's bag and pulled out some long thick pyjama bottoms and thick sweater.

'Dude, you're soaked through, as soon as you get into these, you'll be much warmer', Dean said, holding out the clothes to Sam.

Sam lifted his head, slowly, as if it were made of lead. He looked at Dean with little understanding, and then let his head drop again. He lifted his arms high in the air and held them there.

Dean shifted weight from leg to leg for a moment, looking puzzled at Sam's long arms that were almost at the same height as him standing. It wasn't as if Dean had never seen Sam undressed before. It just felt weird that his brother was practically asking Dean to undress him. In fact, it didn't feel weird at all; it made Dean feel good; really good. That was what was weird. Dean wondered if Sam knew what he was doing to Dean, particularly his heart rate.

'Sammy, I'm not gonna dress you. You're too long, it's gonna be so difficult', Dean said, his throat turning dry.

'Deean.'

The sound was just a quiet moan, beneath long brown hair, but it made Dean move and step towards Sam. Dean sighed, and reached down rolling Sam's t-shirt as he pulled it up, and over his broad shoulders. He pulled it over Sam's head and then completely off his arms, throwing it on the floor. He grabbed the sweater and began to roll it, so that it would be easier to slip it onto Sam.

For a drunk, Sam moved incredibly fast, his hands snaked around Dean's waist and he pulled him in tight, resting his head on Dean's lower stomach. Dean wriggled slightly, shocked by the sudden movement and closeness of his brother. He looked down at Sam's brown hair, as Sam gently rubbed his head against Dean's stomach.

'Hmm...So warm...' Sam mumbled. His hands beginning to wonder around Dean's back, fingers tracing around the band of his belt. Dean froze though his body began to heat up. He rested his hands on Sam's shoulders as he could feel the uncomfortable tightening in the front of his jeans.

'Sammy... Sam', Dean choked out.

Sam's fingers found the hem of Dean's t-shirt and slipped under, towards Dean's back.

'Whoa! Sam!', Dean jumped back, Sam almost falling towards the floor, but caught himself just before slipping off the bed. 'Dude, your hands are freezing!'

There was a sly, smug smile creeping onto Sam's face. Dean could swear he was quietly laughing under his breath.

'Dude, come on, let's just get your pants on, then we can get you to bed', Dean said, chuckling slightly. He wasn't quite sure what had just happened. Whether this was just drunken Sam acting; well, drunk. Or Sam was acting on something much deeper. After Dad's death, Dean couldn't deny that the two of them had gotten a lot closer, but Dean always made himself think that it was just 'brotherly'. But Dean began to think of the way Sam would catch the way Dean looked at him, because Sam would be looking at Dean the same. And the physical closeness of them had changed too; the brushes, and touches, they had become so much more common.

Dean shook his head; maybe he was just making this stuff up. Maybe his head was imagining things, just to make himself feel better that he was feeling things that he shouldn't for his brother.

After a difficult and slightly awkward time getting Sam's wet jeans off, and getting him to put on the pyjama pants, Dean finally got his brother to get into the bed.

'Dean?', Sam grumbled, from under the duvet that he had pulled over his head.

'Yeah Sammy?', Dean said, lingering at the bedside.

'Where's your jacket?' Sam's voice had gone significantly quieter.

Dean frowned, not sure why Sam needed his jacket. He grabbed it from where he had hung it over a chair, and pulled back the duvet to give it to Sam.

'Here ya go dude', Dean said, watching intently to see what Sam wanted with it.

Sam laid it under his head, laying on the soft lining, and held one of the sleeves in his hand. He took a long sniff in the fabric.

'Hmm. . . . Smells of Dean', Sam mumbled out, his eyes shut as he spoke.

Dean smiled, and felt a fluttering in his stomach. He leant down to Sam, and gently kissed his brother's head. He tucked the duvet around Sam, making sure there was no space for cold air to seep in. Sam's breathing became heavy, and he quickly drifted off into a deep sleep.

_A/N: Sorry this is so short! I have only just been able to get back to my computer , I hope you enjoy what there is of it anyway. _


End file.
